


Pretty

by SLSmith22



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 05:40:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8359378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLSmith22/pseuds/SLSmith22
Summary: Hannibal enjoys beautiful things, Will being one of them.





	

They were satin. Cheap, but charming.

They were a delicate pink, the same color as a prom boutonnière, step-sister to the shade of heat that draped Will's chest. 

Jesus, they were pink, with a bow on the back, a direct contrast to the serious maroons and grays of Hannibal's office where Will waited.

And fidgeted.

And listened. 

Mainly listened, because when the noises stopped, Hannibal was finished. And when Hannibal was finished, Will could show him how pretty he looked.

And fuck, he liked looking pretty. Liked how Hannibal touched him, almost like he loved him. Except love was warmth and flowers, and Hannibal and Death had similar to-do lists.

So Will waited, and Will listened.

(That was a dental drill.)

He licked his lips.

(That was pleading, and Hannibal's amused shushes.)

He squeezed his eyes shut. 

(That was a woman trying to scream around a mouthful of blood.)

Choking and garbled, he could hear her begging, just barely, and adjusted himself because only a mannequin wouldn't get hard at the sound of Hannibal working. A glance told him he was only just covered; his cock outlined in the blushing, shiny fabric obscene and thrilling....and wrong. So fucking wrong because these were pink, and pink was for little girls, and the tip of his dick was starting to peek above the white lace trim.

He'd gotten them earlier in the day after work. A quick convenience store stop for toilet paper and a case of water, and there they were in aisle four discarded and out of place on top of the hand towels. (Pack of six! Best value! Guaranteed to wipe up all spills!) He'd shoved them into his coat pocket, and then jacked off in the car, his eyes screwed shut, whole body burning with shame and anticipation. 

And at home when he'd put them on, when he'd slid them up his legs, all the air had been torn from his lungs and for half an hour he'd stared at himself in the dresser mirror. Stared and posed and admired. Yes, Hannibal would love them. Would bunch the fabric in his warm hands, and whisper beautiful words in dead languages. 

So Will fidgeted, and waited, and listened. 

(That thud was the killing blow, the first break of the sternum.)

He swallowed, squeezed his cock, rioted his curls with both hands, and started pacing.

(A muffled succession of cracks meant Hannibal was in the chest cavity, almost finished, snapping ribs back and out of the way. He'd be cupping his hands around the heart, pupils dilated, hunched over the work table, breath held tight in his lungs...)

Will pressed himself against the heavy door, hip bones grinding against the wood, cock aching, ear mashed to hear his favorite part, and goddammit, his own heart was racing, his breath too loud in his ears he was going to mis--

There it was. Oh fuck, oh god, Jesus, yes. There it was. 

Hannibal moaned.

Like it had been stolen from him. Like it was painful. Like it was too dark a secret for even him to admit. God, Hannibal moaned and Will bent at the waist, overwhelmed with need.

And it was need that cracked open the door.

Need that saw Will's tube-socked feet slowly descend the stairs. 

Rabbit-still until Will reached the bottom step, Hannibal turned his head in profile, took a deep breath, nostrils flaring, and exhaled, sneering.

"I could smell you the moment you opened the door, William." He set the heart gently back in the chest cavity.

"Dollar store dinge."

Another deep breath.

"Watermelon lipgloss, cheap satin."

He turned to face Will completely, fucked him twice with his eyes, and killed him once.

"And desperation. Come here."

Will went. Shaking and grinning and nearly gagging for it, he went. Almost tripping over his own fucking feet, he went.

Hannibal grabbed his hips, and sat him on the very edge of the steel table, fuck the wide open body behind him. In half a heartbeat he was between Will's splayed legs, lips pressing against his temple, his fingers playing with the edges of the panties, tugging just to hear the pop of the elastic.

"Impatient. Petulant. Nosy."

"Yes" Will drawled "but am I pretty, Doctor Lector?" that bayou trash snaking into Will's voice, rounding out the consonants, the syllables coming out percocet-stoned. 

And Hannibal, with his corpse of a conscience, braced Will's hands on the broken ribs behind him, bit his chin, and told him to hold on.

So Will gripped the naked bone, slick with viscera, held on and almost started drooling when Hannibal shoved his pants down his thighs, licked his palm, and took himself in hand.

From root to tip, he began to stroke, and Will couldn't even fucking see because Hannibal was up in his space now, so close the rhythm of his fist shook Will's body. So fucking close the two of them weren't breathing so much as trading gasps and grunts.

And Will clenched those glossy ribs, the bloody edges biting his palms, and groaned like a dying thing when Hannibal grabbed his jaw and squeezed. God, there'd be little sore spots tomorrow morning that he'd be able to play like piano keys, and if he could speak right now he'd fucking sing, but Hannibal's thumb was digging into his cheek, grinding against his molars so hard he tasted copper, and Hannibal's palm was burning hot on his jaw, and he was sucking a vicious bruise on Will's shoulder and-

Fuck, Hannibal was coming, roping hot over Will's belly and swaddled cock. He was spitting curses in Lithuanian, Japanese, and Italian. He came and Will felt each drop that landed on him like an Our Father prayer, like a nightmare scream. God, his pretty pink panties were defiled, they were ruined, and he was so hard he could feel the throb in his teeth. 

And Hannibal bent and mouthed clean Will's stomach, bent and ran his tongue from Will's clothed balls to the head of his cock, sucked it between his lips, and let it loose with a wet, sloppy lick that curled Will's toes.....a lick followed by gritty Creole

"Very, very pretty, my darling, you are very pretty."


End file.
